


Duel

by loveiscosmicsin



Series: Collection of Completed FFXV Pairing Week Prompts 2017 [5]
Category: FF15, FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, Ignoct Week, No Romance, Not exactly IgNoct but a little rivalry and mention of flirtation, Timed Quest, ignoctweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 07:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveiscosmicsin/pseuds/loveiscosmicsin
Summary: IgNoct Week: Timed Quest Day #1 "Is that a dagger in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"Origin story: "We're Even". Set in the alternate universe that raised and born patriot, Ignis had served as strategist of Niflheim before his defeat at Noctis and his retinue’s hands. Instead of granting the fallen strategist death, Noctis chose to spare Ignis’ life and welcomed the imperial to the group, much to everyone’s surprise and dissent. Ignis proved to be a valuable ally even with his firm allegiance for his homeland, moving from enemy to friend, though it took some time.





	Duel

**Author's Note:**

> Origin AU story of Niff!Ignis joining the group and his muddled feelings about Noctis: "We're Even" https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217837

Noctis’ back slammed on the ground hard, agitating the flora around him. A sharp exhale inevitably forced its way past his lips, interrupted between gasps.

"Get up, I’m not done with you yet.” Gladiolus twirled his broadsword in front of him before hefting the massive weapon over his shoulders. “Warned you not to get carried away.”

“ _You_ got carried away,” Noctis rasped, managing to fling a handful of grass at the Shield, only for the opposing wind to blow it back at him. “Dammit, my wrist.” He winced.

“Noct!” Prompto looked up from his phone, shoving the device in his back pocket before dashing to the Crown Prince’s side. He helped him sit up and prodded at his body. “Where does it hurt?”

“Ow, ow!” Noctis winced. “Just my wrist, Prom. Here.” He held it out to the sharpshooter.

Prompto took it and rubbed the tender muscle between his palms. “Here?” He rubbed it vigorously, glaring at Gladiolus. “How about taking it a few notches, yeah? He’s our friend, not your punching bag”

Gladiolus scoffed. “What good would that do? Think the baddies are gonna take it easy if we asked nicely? This isn’t dodgeball.” He pointed at the winded prince. “You can do better.”

Prompto rolled his eyes, passing a water bottle to the prince’s mouth. Noctis gulped it greedily, pulling away to cough and his best friend to pat his back. “I think that calls for a break, yeah?” He glanced at both the bodyguard and the prince. “Come on, break time!”

Ignis couldn’t believe the scene unfolding before him. The Lucian prince’s retinue coddle him indefinitely. He understood the pressing desire to improve one’s self especially with the chaos that erupted after the sacking of Insomnia. The stakes were raised even higher between these hunts for the Royal Tombs and fulfilling covenants with the Astrals. But between the Prince’s Shield exceedingly pushing him past his limits to inconceivable standards and the plucky plebeian being the one to end the sessions prematurely, there was a glaring inconsistency.

Ignis couldn’t believe that he lost to Noctis, that all their previous encounters that he skillfully planned and nearly succeeded in claiming his life, only for the Imperial Strategist to be at the other end of the blade. How appalling. “Enough. Your form’s atrocious.” Ignis met up with the three men.

Noctis remained as he were, exhausted and on the ground catching his breath while the other two’s body language changed dramatically, tense and apprehensive at Ignis’ arrival, something that he grew accustomed to. Which was understandable, it wasn’t long ago that Ignis was on the other side of the battlefield pursuing them and he had no shred of mercy to give. The hostility and uncertainty was always tense on whether the imperial officer was to betray or relinquish them to his superiors. No matter how often Ignis tried to explain himself, he was the easiest scapegoat for the attack on the Citadel and the Oracle’s whereabouts despite not being directly part of those missions.

“What do you want, Niff?” Gladiolus’ grip on his blade tightened. “Shouldn’t you be cooking our dinner or something?”

Ah, yes, dinner. Ever since his miserable defeat, Gladiolus found it suitable for the strategist to be confined to kitchen duty. An officer once lauded for his intellect and decisive actions that won small victories for the Empire now assigned to this demeaning nature of work. Without him, the three of them would’ve subsisted on Cup Noodles and canned meat and beans during their journey. They’re fortunate that Ignis was honorable enough not to poison their food or fill them with laxatives. The bodyguard should be at least a little grateful, but gratitude was like squeezing blood from a stone. Ignis already considered his post a fate worse than death. If it wasn’t an inquiry posed whether Ignis would poison them during supper, then it’s a complaint on how he spent Gil on ingredients.

“And turn a blind eye to this travesty? I couldn’t do that. Not when we’re burning daylight.” Ignis took a cylinder-shaped item out of his coat pocket and tossed it to Prompto. “A potion.”

Prompto crushed the curative over the prince’s wrist and a blue glow radiated between them before disappearing. Noctis flexed his fingers and turned his wrist. “Better, buddy?” Prompto asked as light-heartedly as he managed. Noctis nodded, but his attention was on Ignis.

“I’m quite ashamed.” Ignis mused aloud, a sardonic smile on his lips. “I suffered a crippling blow to my ego after my defeat. I couldn’t understand how an untrained warrior like yourself bested me. Countless days and nights fighting beside you and I thought it was justified in what I lacked and your strengths overcame my weaknesses.” He shook his head. “You were simply lucky that day.”

Noctis looked wounded and Gladiolus dove to his defense. “Someone’s got a grudge. Maybe you could use another beating.” Ignoring Gladiolus, Ignis fixed Noctis with a placated stare. “But I’m a man of my word when I swore fealty to you, Prince Noctis. It would not do if I allow this to go on.” “Like you’re in any position to do that.” The Shield remarked. Noctis scratched the back of his head, picking off dirt and grass off his shirt. “So, no revenge? No desertion? What are you thinking?”

“I’d like you to spar with me. Perhaps you can learn something.”

“You’re out of line, Boy Scout.” Gladiolus interjected. “Noct, he’s been too cozy since you took him in. Listening to our secrets, our plans… He’s just waiting for the right moment to jump us.”

“He had plenty of time to do that if he wanted to, right?” Prompto asked. When Noctis started to rise to his feet, the blond fretted over his well-being. “Hey, easy there.”

Ignis held out his hands peacefully. They shouldn’t be concerned, there was nothing he could use to blackmail them. “You’ve disarmed me. You refused my counsel when I’m far versed at strategy repeatedly. It would be foolish to turn my offer down as well.” He lowered them. “I’ve much to offer you than you do to me.”

Noctis studied his expression. “What’s your angle, Ignis?”

“To help you become stronger.” Ignis smirked. “And I couldn’t bear losing to a neophyte warrior.” Noctis was powerful, but unskilled, a diamond in the rough. If given the proper instruction, he would be a legion of one against all those who stand in his way. “I’ll take you on that offer. Need all the help I can get.”

“Are you kidding?” The Shield wheeled around. “He made it clear that he wanted a rematch.” “I saw that coming a mile away.” Noctis grinned, grimacing when he rolled a shoulder back. “But he’s right. I’m not getting any better if I have the same sparring partners. Gotta switch it up.”

Prompto wrung his right wrist, visibly torn between positives and consequences of shifting training partners. “So, Iggy, I guess you need a weapon now, huh?”

Ignis sent a sneer at Gladiolus’ direction and achieved in provoking him though it was a brief glimmer of resentment. “No, I believe that arming me would make the three of you uncomfortable.” He did miss his katana, it was a gift upon graduating top of his class in the academy, infused with the power of the Magitek and having the capability to slice clean through most impregnable barriers.

The katana was now lying under the shaded tree, not far from where the four men stood. Ignis supposed he ought to be flattered. Noctis had kept his katana close, almost like a trophy rather than a safety measure. The prince did loan the strategist the blade during battle with imperials and bounty hunting. But the weapon was the extension of Ignis’ hand, knowing that the prince didn’t absorb it was like a promise it would be possibly returned to him one day.

When the strategist and prince’s eyes met, Noctis held concern in his, a rare emotion to show toward him. “You saying you can take me on without a weapon?”

“Arm yourself as you see fit.” Ignis pushed the concern away with a wave of a hand. “Remember, this is not a fight to the death. Do restrain yourself and I won’t spare any of my techniques against you.”

Gladiolus groaned, finally casting his weapon away. “You do whatever you want. But watch yourself, Noct.”

“Wanna go now?” Noctis challenged.

Prompto jolted upright, laughing nervously as he placed his hands on Noctis’ shoulders. “Uh, Noct, maybe you should take a break first. Right now, Iggy’s got the upper hand of not being worn out.”

Noctis patted his friend’s hands away. “I caught my breath. Let’s go.”

Gladiolus and Prompto stood outside the perimeter of the match. The Shield remained uninvolved as he possibly could though he wouldn’t hesitate to eviscerate Ignis on the spot should the fight go awry. Prompto volunteered to being the referee. Should anything happen those two would be responsible to come between Ignis and Noctis.

“All right, guys, I want to see a clean fight.” The sharpshooter held out his hands, eying both competitors closely. “That means no biting. No hair pulling. No—”

“Prompto, we get it.” Noctis snorted, summoning a blade and when he brandished it, the engine roared with vigor.

“Just… be careful. And don’t kill each other. And spitting’s pretty gross.” Prompto cautioned before flagging the match to begin.

As the sharpshooter distanced himself from the conflict, it seemed like time had slowed down for Ignis, a wave of serenity washed over him as his breathing rejuvenated his focus. It brought a sense of clarity and management that the strategist didn’t possess when he dueled the Crown Prince. Kill or be killed, for the glory of the Empire. When he fell, there was only two options: return to Niflheim as a failure or face death at the Lucian’s hands, only one of those could preserve his honor as death was a guarantee either way. His squad decimated, Ignis wouldn’t have ended pursuit, but his injuries were grave at the time… Noctis denied him death he begged for. Ignis hoped that in committing to this duel, a precursor to future training sessions, that Noctis would view him as a reliable and resourceful ally.

Noctis came at him fast, blade raised in a downward slash. Ignis evaded to the side, avoiding the attack by a margin and made for a simple takedown.

“W-what?” Noctis stared up at him, disbelieving that he was on the ground again. “Going for the overhead strike in the beginning of a bout leaves you fully exposed.” Ignis waved a finger. “Don’t do that.”

Noctis kicked to his feet and aimed for the strategist’s side. Ignis blocked, delivered a knee strike, and threw him down. From across the distance, Prompto had his hands pressed against Gladiolus’ chest, preventing him from intervening.

Ignis turned his attention to the prince who remained on the ground longer than he should. “Are you all right, Highness?”

“Y-yeah,” Noctis grimaced, raising a hand. “Help me up?”

As Ignis reached down to lend him assistance, Noctis grabbed him by the shirt, fingers coiled tightly as he dragged him down. Ignis was unable to free himself. The prince pressed his boot against the strategist’s abdomen and threw him over. Now dazed and stunned by the impact, Noctis moved quickly to straddle Ignis, pinning his wrists down. Ignis narrowed his eyes, studying the prince with spectacles now hung askew on his face. The prince leaned closer and smiled. “Is that a dagger in your pocket?” Noctis questioned, establishing his weight, and locking his legs. He panted, ragged breaths that deepened his voice considerably. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Ignis was amused that such a suggestive line was uttered from Noctis’ mouth. It took some effort for the strategist to disengage from the curves of the prince’s ass settling comfortably on his lower anatomy to their training. “You can say I’m rather… armed.” The corner of his lips twitched to a smile, brow raised. He fanned their joined limbs to his sides and elevated his hips in one swift motion, causing the prince to fall forward. Ignis shoved Noctis off him.

Noctis rolled over before rising to his feet, brushing grass off his sleeves. “Okay, so you can kick my ass. Easily. How about you train me for real this time?”

Ignis let out a laugh, adjusting his glasses. “Found me out, did you?”

The prince put his hands on his hips, feigning annoyance. “It’s pretty obvious that you were enjoying it.”

How astute of him though Ignis had a hunch that Noctis fancied having his ass kicked. “Well, then…” The strategist assumed a stance and held out a hand. “Come on. No more deception. I’ll teach you all that I know.”


End file.
